Кэйго Хигасино - A Midsummer’s Equation

“So, right, I need to ask you about a few more details,” Isobe said, before launching into a long list of questions about the upkeep of the inn, boiler maintenance, whether they had ever considered repairs, whether they knew how much repairs would cost, and other things of that nature. There was no need to lie, so Setsuko just told it like it was.

Maybe we’ll get out of this after all, she thought. The police were definitely moving toward wrapping the case up as professional negligence and corpse abandonment. The punishment for that should be relatively light, not that Setsuko feared punishment. She was happy as long as they could keep what happened sixteen years ago under wraps.

“Sounds like things are pretty rough,” Isobe said, scratching his head. “I guess it’s pretty much the same story for most of the hotels around here.”

Setsuko nodded in silence and thought, If only we’d shut the place down last summer.

“What I’m wondering mostly now is why Mr. Tsukahara chose your inn. You hear anything about that from him? You served him dinner, right?”

Setsuko shrugged. “I did, but we didn’t talk. I just explained the dishes, as usual.”

“Right,” Isobe said, shaking his head. He didn’t seem that concerned either way.

He turned and spoke to the other detective, the one taking notes, and the two left the room. Setsuko’s eyes wandered over to the one barred window in the room. There was a blush of red in the sky. Evening was coming.

The sunset had been glorious that night too, sixteen years ago.

It was a Sunday. The day before, Setsuko had met with an old friend and arrived at Ogikubo Station late, a little tipsy. Walking back, she saw a number of police cars near their house but shrugged it off as another car accident. It was nearly midnight when she got home.

She peeked into Narumi’s room. The lights were out, but she could see a shape buried under the covers. Setsuko smiled and shut the door quietly.

When the call from Hidetoshi Senba came the next morning, she’d been a little bewildered to hear from him now so many years later, but the call wasn’t unwelcome. The surprise mingled with regret in her heart, and, she admitted, a bit of longing.

What he had to say drove all such thoughts out of her mind. Nobuko killed, so close to their home, and her knowing the truth of Narumi’s birth.

She hung up and went into Narumi’s room. She was still in bed, curled up in a fetal position. She wasn’t sleeping, and there were streaks down her cheek. Setsuko understood immediately that she’d been up crying all night.

The knife was on the table next to her bed — a kitchen knife Setsuko often used. It was black with blood. Not just the blade, but the handle, too. Setsuko stood, stunned. Her eyes went to the window, where red streaks of dawn lit the clouds in the distance with an eerie light — an ominous sign, she thought at the time.

Half panicking herself, she began to interrogate Narumi. What happened? What’s this knife? Talk to me, Narumi. The girl’s shock was too deep for her to relate the story with any kind of coherence. Gradually, though, Setsuko learned that a strange woman had come to their house the night before and started saying things to Narumi about her father. Then, after she had left, Narumi had gone to the kitchen, grabbed the knife, and presumably chased her down, though Narumi’s account was particularly vague on that point.

There were still many unknowns, but Setsuko didn’t hold out much hope of getting anything more from her panic-stricken daughter. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t call Shigehiro. What could he do, way down in Nagoya? And how could she explain any of it to him? No, the only person she could call was Senba. When she did, he was ready with instructions. “Bring the knife,” he said. “I have a plan.”

Setsuko knew immediately he was going to try to turn himself in and take Narumi’s place. She also knew she should probably try to stop him. But when she thought of Narumi, she was ready to do anything to protect her. She would gladly take her place if she could, but ironically enough, Setsuko had an alibi. And she couldn’t think of a motive that wouldn’t involve revealing the truth of Narumi’s birth.

Her mind a whirl, she followed Senba’s instructions, leaving the house with the knife. She made Narumi come with her. If she was going to let him go through with this, the least she could do for him was let him see Narumi. He was her true father, after all.

The first thing she noticed when she saw him was how tired and worn he looked. It was clear he’d been through a lot in the many years since they’d last seen each other.

Senba had Setsuko explain the murder in as much detail as she could. Setsuko told him everything she had managed to wring out of Narumi, then, hesitantly, asked him if he was sure he wanted to do this. All he said was, “A parent will do anything to protect their child.” His words were like a firm hand pressing against her back, pushing her toward the inevitable.

She saw on the news when he was arrested two days later, chased down by a detective as he was trying to get rid of the evidence. She was surprised he hadn’t just turned himself in, but she assumed it was a calculated move to make him look even guiltier. It would certainly mean a stiffer sentence, Setsuko thought, and her heart almost burst.

Nothing in the news or the paper indicated the police had any doubt about his story. The police never showed up at Setsuko’s door. Senba’s plan had worked.

She then decided it was time to tell everything to Narumi. It was quite a shock to her, and she stayed home from school for four days. But as talk of the case faded from the news reports, things started to return to normal. It was clear that Narumi had begun to understand better what she had done and who had saved her.

There was an unspoken agreement never to mention this to her father. In fact, they never talked about it again, not even to each other. Nor did they forget. It remained an unfading scar on both their hearts, occasionally surfacing as a dull pain that cast a shadow over their lives. Setsuko could understand why Narumi suddenly became enthusiastic about her father’s plans to move the family to Hari Cove.

Indeed, their new life in Hari Cove was relatively happy. Narumi had thrown herself into environmental issues with a passion that was almost painful for her mother to see. She let Narumi do as she wished, in hopes it might lessen the burden of her guilt. Nor did she try to stop her when Narumi hung the painting Senba had given them in the lobby of the Green Rock Inn.

And so sixteen years passed. She hadn’t forgotten Senba, but it was true that the memories didn’t seem as clear now, with the veil of so many years’ worth of history pulled over them. It was Tsukahara who drew back that veil. She was setting out his dinner when he said suddenly, “He’s in the hospital, you know.”

Setsuko blinked. “Excuse me? Who is?” Tsukahara wet his lips, smiling stiffly. “Senba,” he said. “Senba is in the hospital.”

Setsuko could feel her face tense. Then, in a lower voice, Tsukahara told her he was a former detective, in charge of the murder in Ogikubo.

Setsuko’s heart nearly beat out of her rib cage. She could hear her pulse in her ears.

“There’s no need to be scared,” Tsukahara said. “I’m not here to dig up the past. I do have a request, though.”

“What?” Setsuko asked. Speaking suddenly seemed almost impossible.

Tsukahara looked her straight in the eye and said he wanted Narumi to visit Senba on his deathbed.

“He doesn’t have much longer. Maybe not even a month. I want him to be able to see the person he traded his life to save before he goes. It’s the only way I can think of to make up for the mistake I made sixteen years ago.